


i won't drop you, if you won't drop me

by xieagle



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, and it's never really happy, basically there's a part two and i'll write more when i feel like it, because i like that song, blink and you'll miss it hoestly, but no fluff either, calum is pretty sad, everyone is pretty sad, first he's happy and then sad, hA i added more, i guess the ending it kind of happy??, i planned it to be sad too but it didn't happen??, it's minor but be careful, it's mostly sad, kind of like prompts probably, mali is a queen but things happen, michael is a jerk and then he's sad, no smut for once, oh well, some angst i guess, the lashton is super minor, the title is from if you say so by vinyl theatre, there's a touch of self-harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:45:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4534965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xieagle/pseuds/xieagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about soulmates, she had said, was that you just knew them when you saw them. Sometimes it was a pouring over of strong emotions. However, other times it was subtle warmth - the feeling of home which not even four walls and a roof could replicate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> unedited because i'm lazy, so all mistakes are my own.  
> there is a mention of self-harm. it's not graphic but may be triggering, so please be careful, i love you all<3

There had been a time when he was younger, about three or four, when Calum fell off of his bike. Fortunately he hadn't been injured badly, but the fall had left him with a pair of scraped knees and tear tracks running down his face. In all honesty, Calum didn't remember the actual event much - just a flash of red from the paint of his bike as he fell off, followed by the image of the sky imprinted in his mind when he had stared up at it from the ground when he had been sprawled on his back. No, what he remembered so vividly that made him recall the actual trigger had been what had followed.

His sister had been the one to pick her bloodied brother up from the ground while he cried. With both their parents at work, she had taken it upon herself to take the sobbing boy home, whispering sweet things into his ear in an attempt to pacify him. Nothing had worked until she hit upon a topic which probably would have made other boys stick out their tongue and make some in-eloquent sound of disgust: soulmates. 

The thing about soulmates, she had said, was that you just knew them when you saw them. Sometimes it was a pouring over of strong emotions. However, other times it was subtle warmth - the feeling of home which not even four walls and a roof could replicate. That had caught the young boy's interest while she had set herself to work cleaning his knees. Later, while she dried his cheeks, Calum asked to hear a bit more about the soulmates she spoke of, if she had been really, really serious, and if he had one. Years later, he could still recall how she had stopped, looked him straight in the eye and spoke softly, "Calum, if you don't have one, no one deserves one. I think they're real."

Well, that had been enough for him.

\--

Many years had passed since he had fallen from his bike, taking Calum from age five to age sixteen. A number of things, looking back, had changed over time. For one, he had been able to get over his fear of getting onto a bike once more, and no longer shook when he fought to hold back tears and keep pedaling. He had made many friends, and three he had come to call his best friends. There was Luke, who was a few months younger, but who seemed to be growing taller and taller with every day. There was Ashton, who was the oldest of the group, but who acted as if he was the youngest. Then there was Michael. While the four were certainly all best friends, Calum couldn't even lie to himself that he didn't prefer Michael over the pair of blondes in their group. 

He had met Michael when they were still kids in primary school, unsure what the world really was. They had been seated next to each other during school for the daily snack-time, and ever since Calum gave the slightly-larger boy his spare juice box, they had been joined at the hip ever since. 

Michael, while other things changed and new friends made, had remained a relative constant for Calum. Despite the boy's tendency to change the color of his hair every few months, he was generally the same from the boy who had forgotten his juice on his kitchen counter once more. It was impossible for Calum to count the number of things Calum liked about the colorful boy. His voice always felt smooth, even after they had both just awoken during one of their numerous sleepovers. His skin was always warm whenever they made contact, their legs tangled together while they were "studying" on Calum's bed one lazy evening after school. His hair was always soft when Calum ran his fingers through it, feeling him hum in contentment with only the light from Michael's television illuminating the room while they were watching some B-list movie Ashton said they just had to watch.

It wasn't something Calum thought about often, but it was within those moments that Calum could reach towards what he had been told years ago about soulmates, and he could feel the warmth which he could only describe as a feeling of home. A feeling which only came when Michael was nearby.

\--

Another year had gone by and Calum was seventeen, barely making it through high school. He had spoken to Michael several times about simply dropping out and starting a band. It could work, he had said then when his best friend offered only a laugh. The conversation had been recent, in fact. 

"You play guitar, Ashton knows how to play the drums, and Luke could sing," Calum had pointed out indignantly from where he was sprawled on Michael's bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sure, they had homework they should have been doing, and tests they should have been studying for. But they wouldn't have to if they dropped out and started a band. That was how the conversation began.

Another laugh left Michael's lips, his eyes focused on the screen of his television which displayed the video game he had been playing when Calum came over. Coming over unannounced was nothing new in their friendship. "Yeah? That makes perfect sense," he mused, humoring the dark-haired boy. "What about you?"

"I can play guitar. Bass can't be too hard," Calum answered, not needing to take a moment to ponder it. Another laugh was the only reply he received, and in exchange he huffed. "Fine, you come up with something better."

The next several moments passed in silence, save for the sound of gunshots from the video game. At last, Michael paused the game and turned to face Calum. "Why do you always do that?" he asked, one eyebrow cocked in question. 

Brown eyes fluttered open from when they had been closed, meeting a rich and steady green gaze. "Do what?" 

"You always take on the hard things yourself. Like, you'd be willing to learn an entirely new instrument for the rest of us."

A shrug was all he could manage before he sat up, brow furrowed in thought. "It was my idea. It wouldn't be fair to make you or Luke learn bass when I might be able to." Another reason had come to mind, but it was one he dared not say aloud, not willing to face what might come as a result: he wanted to make Michael proud. 

Their relationship was rather lax, completely friends in every sense of the word. They had kissed once, only in Ashton's basement at the blonde's birthday party, and only after they had each consumed a fair amount of alcohol. They had never spoken of it, even if Calum could feel the soft press of his friend's lips against his own at the very thought of that party. The younger boy would be lying if he made the claim he didn't have a crush on his best friend. It was no middle-school crush either, he might even dare to call it a damaging four-letter word so many felt so passionately about.

Michael didn't answer, instead turning away long enough to shut off his television before crawling onto the bed, settling down beside Calum. "Cuddle?" With the single word, the conversation ended, both knowing that the tanned boy would never turn down a cuddle. Not ever, and especially not when it came to Michael.

\--

Several months short of a year later found Calum standing outside Michael's house at two in the morning. It was raining lightly, the raindrops falling onto tanned skin when he knocked softly on the door. He had received a text from his friend, asking him to come over in the dead of night. Seeing as he had been awake watching a movie and because it was Michael, Calum couldn't help but to sneak out of the house and cross town on-foot to reach the familiar residence. 

No lights were on when the now-soaked boy arrived. His phone was like a block of lead in his pocket, an unsent text still remaining. Calum had been watching a movie in an attempt to clear his mind, settle his nerves. He had planned on sending a text to Michael, but it hadn't felt right at the time. Perhaps, he thought, it would be better telling his friend in person. Certainly that would be better.

It felt as if only seconds passed between Calum's knocking and when he was literally pulled inside by his friend. The house was dark, so he could only assume the Clifford-parents were asleep in their bedroom. "I've got to tell you something," Michael said, voice kept low as to not break the silence. 

In response, Calum nodded, putting his arms around himself in an attempt to keep warm, making no argument when he was herded up the stairs and into Michael's bedroom - a path he was know with his eyes closed.

"Shit, you're soaked, Cal. Did you walk here?" Came the question after a moment, the volume raised slightly. Receiving a nod of affirmation, Michael swore once more, shaking his head. "Take your shirt off," he requested, grabbing one of his own sweatshirts, giving Calum no time to argue, pulling it over his head as soon as the wet shirt was removed. "What am I gonna do with you, huh?"

"You could tell me what was so important," Calum answered, slipping his arms properly through the sweatshirt which was one size too big, but warm enough to keep his teeth from chattering, the air conditioning making the water against his skin cold enough to cause him to shiver. 

Michael nodded, taking the discarded shirt and hanging it up to dry. "Right," he murmured, a grin lighting his features. "I asked the girl I was telling you about if she wanted to go out with me, and she said yes!" With that, Calum felt his heart break, his jaw loosening, his lips parting slightly.

The single sound of "oh" fell from his mouth flatly, and he took a step towards the door. "I should go," he mumbled, his hand finding the doorknob easily, his shirt forgotten. 

"What? Why?" Michael asked, his grin replaced with a look of hurt. Though nothing matched what Calum felt, his stomach churning, and he felt suffocated, whatever sense of home he might have had replaced with emptiness, cold and harsh. 

Calum shook his head, refusing to meet Michael's gaze, even when the older boy came closer, nearing his space. "I have to go," he choked out.

A hand, warm as ever, landed on his when he turned around to open the door. "Calum, what the fuck?"

Thoroughly agitated and plenty hurt, Calum pulled his hand away and faced Michael, taking his phone out of his pocket. He opened up his messages and sent the one from earlier. "Check your phone," he managed, voice strained as he fought to hold back tears. "I think you got a text."

It was then that he opened the door, running down the stairs and out of the door, back into the rain. He didn't receive a reply until ten minutes later, when he had reached his house. 

**To: Mikey :D  
** Sent: 2:16 am  
I love you. I love you more than a friend should.

 **From: Mikey :D  
** Received: 2:27 am  
I don't love you. Sorry

It was the next morning that Calum walked outside the check the mailbox that he found his shirt from the night before on the front porch, slightly damp. It was folded nicely, a piece of paper settled on top of it, kept there by a small piece of tape.

_Leave my sweatshirt on the porch later? I won't be home. Please don't text me again._

_\- Michael._

Calum did as he was told, leaving no note taped to the sweatshirt. He deleted Michael's number from his phone - as painful as it was - and never went down his block. 

He stayed away and lost his best friend, and his home. 

\--

It had been a week later that Calum relayed the story to his remaining pair of best friends. The blondes had been shocked, but had pulled him into a crushing hug. Just as the three were pulling away, tears streaming down the dark-haired boy's face, a text lit up Ashton's phone. 

"Michael's gone," he whispered, Luke handing a tissue to the crying boy. 

"What?" Three pairs of eyes settled on the screen of the eldest's phone, reading the pair of words a number of times over and over again, waiting for a signal that it was a joke. No other text was delivered that day.

 **From: Michael c=8  
** Received: 12:08 pm  
I'm gone. 

And Calum's heart broke for another time when the trio embraced once more, all three trying to come to grips with what it possibly meant.

\--

Another span of years passed and Calum was twenty-two, living in an apartment with his best friends and juggling working at the local record-shop and classes at university. He stayed away from anyone with the name he had come to hate, and found himself despising the idea of love. For years he had struggled, not sleeping right and spending more time crying than not. His sister had found him one day when he thought she was at work. He had been in his bathroom, a sharp piece of metal gripped firmly in one hand and a number of lines crossed over his opposite arm. Once more she bandaged him up, coaxing him out of a numb state until he broke in her arms. Words did not come easily, but she understood. He thought he didn't have a perfect match as she had claimed so many years ago. All she could do was rock her younger brother back and forth, and tell him that he hadn't found that person yet. "You just need to find your home," she said, withholding her own tears when Calum shook his head. "No, Mali, Michael was my home."

Since then, Calum supposed things got better. It wasn't a sudden shift, but he managed to get better. He could sleep through the night, and his chest didn't ache as much some nights. Sometimes he could pretend he was all right and that everything was going to be fine. 

No one he knew had heard from Michael since the text he had sent Ashton all those years prior, but he didn't like to linger on that. If anything, he hoped the once-vibrant boy was happy. Maybe he found some girl and they were happy together, happier than Calum ever could have made him. That was how he liked to think of his once-friend. 

Things seemed to be looking up around Christmas, and Calum noticed a number of things. The biggest thing was the band between his best friends; the lingering looks they sent each other. Calum had made plenty of jokes that they were like a married couple, fresh from their honeymoon, watching how Luke's eyes got big and how Ashton blushed, looking everywhere except at Luke. The looks turned to an increase of them watching movies on the couch, cuddled together, which evolved into holding hands when they thought Calum wasn't looking. Everything after that only made the tanned boy happier for his friends, and it went without a comment when they shared soft pecks or even a bit more in front of their friend. Calum knew that they loved each other as he had once loved, and he understood that.

He was okay. Not healed, not perfect, but he was okay.

\-- 

Calum was okay until he heard a short, hushed conversation between his two friends.

"-he's back-" That was Ashton. 

"Are you sure?" Luke.

"Yeah - and Jack said that he saw him -" Who was he?

Calum was in his bedroom, assuming that his friends were in their room across the hall, based upon how close they sounded. He didn't dare move, straining to make out more.

"No!" Ashton again, the single syllable louder than the rest, and Luke shushed him before the older spoke again. "No, we can't tell..."

That was the last part Calum heard before the sound of a door closing shut him off. Exasperated and confused, sure that he was involved somehow, he rested his head back onto his pillows.

\-- 

Exactly a week passed before Calum was able to piece together the conversation between his friends. It started with a knock on the door, when he was in the apartment alone. Netflix was playing on the television in the living room while he struggled to get the microwave to pop a package of popcorn. "C'mon," he muttered, frustrated. The knock was what caught his attention, bringing him away from the microwave long enough to go to the door. 

Ashton, he knew, was working his shift at a coffeeshop down the street. Luke, he supposed, was either visiting one of his brothers or his mother. Either way, Calum was alone and hadn't been expecting any company. All the same, he didn't bother looking through the hole in the door before he twisted the doorknob, opening the door. As soon as he caught sight of blue hair and green eyes, he gripped the door with one hand, his knees buckling while a familiar voice spoke his name, filling his ears. "Cal?"

Calum could do nothing to stop himself from otherwise crumpling to the floor, not believing the sight in front of him. "Michael?"

The boy before him was tall, perhaps even taller than he remembered. His hair was dyed blue, framing an eyebrow piercing. "I'm back," the figure said, dropping to his knees to be on the same level as Calum. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

The younger boy shook his head, tears stinging his eyes but going unshed. "You're not supposed to be here," he managed to choke to words out, dropping his eyes to the floor.

"I know," Michael returned, sounding more vulnerable than Calum had ever heard him before. "I can leave if you say so. Do you want me to leave?"

He wanted to say yes, to tell Michael he could fuck off. That after all these years Calum finally felt okay and if he thought he could come back and ruin everything again, well, he couldn't. 

But Calum couldn't say any of that, unable to ignore the fact that, for once, he felt whole again. It wasn't the same as it once was, but it was better than he felt in years. The feeling only increased when he managed to shake his head and whisper the truth - that he didn't want Michael to leave - and when his former best friend put his arms around him, bringing all of the pieces together, even if only temporarily. 

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't all right. It wasn't okay.

It was home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No, listen to me," he demanded, leaving no room for argument. There was no denying he was certainly pissed off now, his previous state of shock tossed away. "You're the one who left. You told me never to text you again, and you left. Do you get what that did to me? Damn it, Michael, I loved you," he said fiercely, his voice catching on the last statement, saying it aloud seeming to jar them both. "I loved you - my best friend - and you left."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited, so all errors are my own  
> hope you guys like this<3

Michael truly was back. 

That was what Calum had been told as soon as the pair had managed to pick themselves up from the floor just inside of the apartment. Well, really, Michael had pulled his once-best friend to his feet, an arm tight and supportive around his waist, even when they all but collapsed on the couch. Somehow, all the tears had gone unshed with both boys, stinging at their eyes but never falling. 

It seemed to take them all of ten seconds to adjust themselves on the couch, the older boy seated with his back against one of the armrests and Calum between his legs, the latter's back against his chest. 

"I'm back," he murmured after a long moment of silence, broken only by the movie which had been playing already on the nearby television. Neither paid it any mind, too busy trying to wrap their minds around their predicament.

Calum remained silent while he pondered that very idea, turning it over and over in his mind, as if searching for a _but_ , or any sort of general uncertainty. "How long?" he asked, his muscles tense. The question itself asked quite a bit in so few words. How long had he been back? How long did he intend to stay? All in all, the younger felt numb, as if in a dream. Michael was not supposed to be back - was never supposed to come back. He was supposed to stay away and move on, let Calum suffer and heal. However, the muffled heartbeat he could make out and a warm arm around his waist made him sure enough that the other was there - not just some figment of his imagination.

A hum sounded close to his ear before Michael's chest vibrated with words once more. "It's been about two weeks, I guess." 

Two weeks. Two whole weeks. Two whole _fucking_ weeks.

It had been two weeks since the boy Calum fell in love with all those years ago had returned to town, and this was the first he had heard from him. The thought alone was enough to make his stomach churn, but before he could work up some question in response to that fact, the blue-haired boy spoke again, "I don't know how long I'll be here. I miss it, and i want to stick around, but I don't know..." he trailed off then. 

The beat of silence allowed Calum to speak once more, voice not-quite as hollow as before when he rounded on the newcomer. "What the fuck were you even thinking, then?" He sat up then, managing to escape the gentle grasp. Michael opened his mouth, green eyes wide with surprise at the outburst, but Calum beat him to the punch. "No, listen to me," he demanded, leaving no room for argument. There was no denying he was certainly pissed off now, his previous state of shock tossed away. "You're the one who left. You told me never to text you again, and you left. Do you get what that did to me? Damn it, Michael, I loved you," he said fiercely, his voice catching on the last statement, saying it aloud seeming to jar them both. "I loved you - my best friend - and you left."

Michael appeared rather shocked, his lips parted slightly as he tried to think of something. He visibly flinched from the sheer bitterness and _hurt_ in Calum's voice. "Cal," he whispered, his own voice pained and vulnerable. He knew he did wrong. It had taken years to come to terms with it after so much effort to convince himself that none of it was his own fault. But it was impossible to deny the utter truth. 

Calum, though, was not yet soothed, seeming to ignore his name altogether. He stood, running a hand through his hair when Michael sat up. Their eyes met, both obviously under quite a bit of inner turmoil, the pressure of so many years weighing on them. "You left, and now you think you can come back just to leave again?" he asked, this time obviously searching for an answer.

For a long moment Michael searched the younger boy's face before he sighed softly and standing to meet Calum. He reached out hesitantly to touch his arm, fearing some sort of retaliation, but rested his hand there when there was no motion of pulling away. "I don't know if I'm going to stay because I don't know if there's anything here for me," he started, shushing the darker-skinned male when he opened his mouth, offering a slight shake of his head. Now it was his turn to explain. 

"My parents live about three hours away. I haven't lived here in about four years, Cal. You're the reason I came back," he continued, allowing one hand to touch Calum's chin, lifting it slightly so that their eyes could meet properly. "You're the only thing I thought about after I left. I was so stupid to leave you like that. But I was confused and didn't even know I liked anyone other than girls. I think I always knew I loved you, but never thought it was like _that_." He paused then, as if to allow it to sink in. 

Calum swallowed thickly, all anger from seconds before gone. It hurt, no doubt, to see his old friend without having any proper warning. He had always imagined how things would go in the case they crossed paths again, but he had never thought it to be possible. He always thought it would be easy to tell him to go away, as he had been told years prior. But he simply could not. As much as he had tried to change, his heart was set on a boy with blue hair, green eyes, and the most beautiful smile.

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, Michael spoke again, his previous management of keeping his words steady beginning to fail him. "What I'm trying to get at is that I'll stay if you want me to," he paused, intending to say more. Fortunately, it seemed four years apart did nothing to ruin the ability the old friends held when it came to reading each other. So, Calum caught on quickly, nodding slightly for him to continue with widened chocolate-colored eyes. "There's an apartment about a mile here. It's small, but... I like it, and there's more than enough room for me. It's basically mine, I just have to tell the guy I want it - or don't. But I don't want to live somewhere I'll have nothing to keep me here, if that makes sense." He stopped then, his explanation over. "Just... tell me if I should take it."

An eternity seemed to pass before Calum opened his mouth. His dark eyebrows were furrowed together as he thought it over. There was no lie in the fact that he had missed Michael so much. However, he also felt a sense of insecurity rise up, settling in his throat and leaving a bitter taste. They had not spoken in years, and had definitely not ended on a happy note. 

It was the sincerity in Michael's eyes that finally made him nod, though no smile flashed across his lips. "I think you should get it, Michael," he concluded at last. 

The joy which lit Michael might have been more endearing in a different time line, though it still held a fair amount of charm as he dared to bring Calum close once more for a tight hug. "You think so?"

"Yeah, I think so."

\--

Calum was no longer keeping count of days or weeks. What mattered was that Michael was back, and things finally had reached what felt to be an equilibrium. 

Ashton and Luke were not exactly the welcome wagon when they arrived home to see their friend speaking to the one person who had broken his heart and his spirit, especially considering they had been left behind as well. But, after things settled in that respect, all seemed to be, well, okay.

It wasn't perfect, but it was about time the idea of perfection was considered impossible, as far as Calum was concerned. 

Nothing had taken place between the reunited best friends, simply by Calum's statement that he needed time. He didn't go into specifics, saying only that it had taken a long time to heal, and it was going to take time before he was ready for anything other than a cautious friendship. Really, he could hardly call Michael his best friend after everything; he had long since been replaced by a pair of blondes in love. Michael, as he had said, completely understood. It had taken him just as long to figure out his own sexuality, only to come to the conclusion that Calum had been the one person he had ever found himself so enamored by. With that, they came to settlement - in the case Calum was ever ready for anything that wasn't thought to be strictly platonic, then they would see where they were at. 

The calendar flipped to a new month by the time Michael had officially moved into his apartment. As expected, the first thing the space saw was a small party of four with a wide range of alcoholic beverages. Knowing them, it wasn't long before the small group was laughing drunkenly, each with a beer in hand. Nothing particularly funny had been said, but the clock read a quarter past one in the morning, and they had been gathered and drinking for about four hours. More than enough time for them to all find themselves far past tipsy with alcohol-flushed cheeks and inflated egos. 

Thankfully, there was hardly anything breakable in the apartment, save for the television and the bed - according to a drunken Luke. That joke had been said around eleven, when they were each either at drink number three or four, and needless to say things had only gotten worse. 

Luke and Ashton were sprawled on the couch, propped up against their own armrest, their legs tangled together in the middle while Michael was seated in a beat-up recliner he claimed he had found out on the curb the day before with Calum lying on the floor in front of the chair. They had agreed hours ago that "lashton" would manage to sleep on the couch, Michael would probably find his way into his bed at some point, and Calum would crash where he would. 

It was about two-thirty when Michael nudged Calum with his foot, the latter slurring on and on, going through a story about a television he might have seen a week ago when it was playing on a television screen at the small restaurant. "Calum," Michael interrupted, ignoring the indignant huff he received for the offense. "They're asleep," he said, an attempt at a whisper failing miserably when he nodded towards the couple on the couch. "Let's go to bed," he decided, getting up, careful to avoid the other when Calum pushed himself into a sitting position. The younger boy nodded, barely stifling a large yawn.

"Okay," he murmured sleepily, his story forgotten. "I'll crash on the chair," he stated, eyes half-lidded.

Michael glanced at the chair in question, disinterested, before shaking his head. "Just come to bed with me, it's more comfortable." He rolled his eyes at the subsequent snort. "I'm serious."

Pushing himself to his feet, Calum shook his head slightly, the subtle movement causing his entire figure to move with his head. "I'm cool with the chair. Your room's too far," he stated, showing no interest in going an entire ten feet to the nearby bedroom. A sigh was the only reply he was given before he was literally hoisted into the air, one of Michael's arms in the crook of his knees and the other supporting his back. "You're too drunk - gonna drop me," he complained, wrapping his arms tightly around Michael's neck when the elder started the travel towards his room. 

A chuckle traveled up Michael's throat, though he gripped the boy in his arms a bit tighter. "You don't give me enough credit. I'm not gonna drop you," he slurred. Luckily they reached his bed without any casualties, and he set the slightly-smaller male down on the mattress. In return, the kiwi crawled up toward the headboard, making no further noise save for a contented sigh when he was curled up under the blanket.

With a fond roll of his eyes, Michael followed suit after discarding his pants - unlike Calum. He made his way onto the unoccupied side of the bed, hardly having time to settle in before a body curled against his own, a head resting on his chest. "Cal-" he started, having enough sense even in his state. There was no telling what the other might think if he woke up to them cuddling. Years ago it would have been nothing new, but lately he found the darker-haired boy to be uneasy if they were too close. 

"Friends can cuddle," Calum cut him off, eyes shut tightly. There was hardly enough time to form an argument before he dropped off into sleep, his breathing evening out and leaving Michael to nod and put an arm around his waist, bringing him impossibly closer. Okay, friends can cuddle. They were friends.

\--

After that, things only seem to continue to get better. Time goes by, and Calum finds himself with Michael more and more, even without the presence of Luke and Ashton. Michael found a job in a nearby record store - a job Calum told him about, knowing the now-red haired boy would likely find himself drawn to it. 

It was a peaceful existence, he decided, without any of the awkwardness he might have assumed would linger. No doubt, there were still times where their hand s might linger together too long while they watched a movie over at Michael's, where they would stare dumbly, wondering if it would wiser to withdraw or press it further. Calum was always the first to move, and he always moved his hand away, forcing himself to ignore the unreadable expression he could only fathom to be disappointment which would always pass Michael's features and cloud his eyes.

As much as those times hurt, though, there were plenty of times where they could let go of their inhibitions and just be together as they had been as kids and teenagers. That much, though, was something Calum didn't realize until one odd day when they were just lounging together on Michael's couch. He was sprawled out, his head resting on his friend's lap and playing a game on his phone, biting down on his lower lip as he struggled to match together red candies. A hand carded through his hair, gentle and soothing while Michael played a video game on his X-box, appearing completely perplexed at whatever task he was asked to perform, one hand on the controller and the other in dark hair. The entire atmosphere around them was comfortable in a way unimaginable only months prior. Based on the calendar, it had been almost four months since Michael showed up, and at last Calum knew. 

"Mikey," he murmured, the old nickname falling from his lips for the first time in years. It felt no more foreign than it ever had, just barely making it over the din of the game when he rested his phone on his chest. 

It seemed Michael was able to place the significance as well, looking down, surprise written across his face. "Cal?" he questioned, asking him to continue, putting the controller down, having grasped it was at least slightly important. That was enough for him.

Calum paused, taking in every feature of his friend's - his best friend's - face. He licked his dry lips before sitting up to face him properly, finding himself momentarily overwhelmed by green irises. His voice was small when he spoke again, no doubt fearing another rejection. "I love you," he whispered, only to look down at the couch when Michael's eyebrows rose on his forehead. 

Fingertips were light against his cheek, forcing him to look up once more. He didn't have time to react before lips brushed against his own, gentle and barely there, but more than enough to make him melt. It was over before it began, but that was all right, because the beating of his pulse in his ears was only background to a voice he knew better than his own. "I love you too."

It was then that Calum was able to nod, a smile curling at his lips. He remembered what he had been told so many years ago, before he even knew Michael, after falling from his bike.

Michael made him okay.

Michael made things all right.

Michael made it perfect. 

Michael was home. 

And maybe, just maybe, Calum was all of that in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was asked to add more - and so i did<3  
> okay, so basically i'm going to open this up to a prompt series sort of thing  
> like, if there's something you want to see with this universe, or if something pops into my head, i'll do it  
> for example, a fluffy domestic blurb with both malum and lashton, hA  
> and that's about all i have to say  
> thank you all for the support for this, you make my world a happier place<3
> 
> be my friend on tumblr: http://xieagle.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> i was thinking of adding little drabbles onto this, i don't know  
> i might add an extra part or something, i haven't decided yet
> 
> come be my friend on tumblr: http://xieagle.tumblr.com/


End file.
